


Silver and Gold Crowns

by HarmonyLover



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Lirenel, Prince Caspian film, Sequel, Terror Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyLover/pseuds/HarmonyLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Lirenel's "Terror Gold," in which Caspian learns more about the Pevensie siblings, Peter confronts Caspian, Edmund returns, and allegiances are "sorted" before the duel with Miraz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver and Gold Crowns

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Terror Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/91079) by Lirenel. 



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to _The Chronicles of Narnia_ ; it all belongs to the C.S. Lewis estate, Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, et al. I write these stories purely for enjoyment; no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author’s Note:** This story is a sequel to Lirenel’s ["Terror Gold"](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4606228/1/Terror-Gold), with her kind permission and encouragement. I wrote it originally around December of 2009. I find it profoundly ironic that my first published Narnia story is set in the Prince Caspian movieverse, since I have serious reservations about the film. However, I read “Terror Gold” and it just would not let me go. I found Lirenel’s characterization of Peter disturbing, verging on terrifying, as he is so different in her story from the Peter in my mind. I wanted to continue exploring what Peter might have been feeling as Edmund was away offering his challenge to Miraz; I also wanted to keep thinking about how Caspian began to understand the Pevensie siblings, both their interactions and their history as monarchs of Narnia. I found myself thinking about what might have happened in between the events of Lirenel’s story and the duel with Miraz in the film, as I always felt that Caspian and Peter seemed to have reached some sort of understanding by the time the duel took place. Peter, even though he is worried and anxious during the duel, seems to have recovered some of his self-possession and air of sovereignty. So, this is my version of what might have happened. It picks up immediately following the end of “Terror Gold.” All italicized text is taken directly from Lirenel’s story, mostly to ensure plot continuity. I highly recommend reading her story first, as this one will make much more sense if you have. My sincere thanks to her for letting me attempt a continuation to it.

**Silver and Gold Crowns**

_Caspian stopped short, when he realized that in his daze he had walked to the opening that led to the ledge which surveyed the field in front of the How. From the shadows of the doorway, Caspian saw High King Peter standing at the edge of the overlook, staring out towards the woods where the Telmarines were encamped, hand never leaving the hilt of his sword Rhindon. Lucy stood beside him, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. Seeing them like that, seeing the hard stance of the boy king who now looked nothing like a boy at all, Caspian knew that Lucy’s hand was not one of restraint, but one of comfort. A gesture saying that, whatever the High King did, she would support him. Because nothing, not even his little sister, would restrain Peter should his brother come to harm. Just as Lucy had told him._

_Just as the little rhyme chanted by Telmarine children warned their fathers:_

_Two kings, two crowns_  
Silver and Gold crowns  
Lost Silver stand strong  
Silver of the right and wrong  
Gold comes, terror Gold  
Riding forth, fierce and bold  
Silver tarnish, Silver dire  
Burning west a Golden fire  
How many does the Gold one burn?  
One, two, three, four…

_‘Listen to the children, Uncle,’ thought Caspian, darkly, ‘and do not lay a finger on the Silver Crown, for they know the consequences of harming the brother of the High King. And if you ignore their warning, I will be able to do nothing but stand with the Valiant Queen and watch the Golden Fire burn through Narnia…and count with them.’_

_How many does the Gold one burn?  
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…_

_~ The conclusion of Lirenel’s “Terror Gold”_

Caspian stood still and quiet, thinking deeply as he continued to observe the High King and his sister. With the chilling rhyme from his childhood still ringing in his ears, he understood more clearly than ever that no matter what the Pevensies looked like on the outside, they were indeed the Kings and Queens of the old stories that had fascinated him as a boy. He could not doubt it, not after seeing the uncanny wisdom in Queen Lucy’s eyes as she told him the story of his ancestor, Caspa. The age in her eyes was unnerving when those eyes were set in such a young face. She had fought with her brothers on the battlefield, cured them of deadly wounds with the magic cordial that was blessed by Aslan, possibly had sustained wounds herself that were no longer visible on her body, just as her brother Edmund’s finger had been restored to him. She had been a woman when she left Narnia, even older than he was now, and had fallen back into her own world with the body of a child. She had left a kingdom which she clearly loved dearly, where she had been joyously happy, if her expression as she looked at the paintings in the How was anything to go by, and had started all over again, carrying with her a lifetime of experiences that she wasn’t supposed to have had. How difficult it must have been to go back to being young when one had been an adult, a queen, a warrior. How painful to return to a Narnia where nothing was as she had left it, where scarcely anything remained of the country she had loved but a small army of loyal subjects who were descended from those she had ruled.

But then, that was true of all of them, Caspian realized with a start. Susan, too, perhaps more than any of the rest, seemed haunted by the disjuncture between her own world, the Narnia she had known, and this Narnia that was so unfamiliar and hostile. King Edmund also had been profoundly disturbed by the changes in Narnia, Caspian knew, although Edmund’s steady air of purpose tended to mask his deeper feelings from all but his siblings. It was also impressive how he managed to carry the lessons of one world into another, how he apparently managed to stay balanced between the two worlds – but perhaps that wasn’t so surprising. Edmund, so far as Caspian could tell, had always been at his brother’s side, had always been the rational judge who tempered Peter’s fierce and fiery personality. Edmund was the firm and quiet diplomat to his brother’s gregarious warrior. Caspian knew the story of Edmund’s betrayal, of course – his nurse had told it to him many times – but since the child Edmund had come back to his siblings, his loyalty had always been absolute, or so the stories said. Caspian had no trouble believing it, having watched the two brothers before Edmund’s departure. Edmund could stay balanced because Peter _was_ his balance, because protecting and supporting his brother was the same in either world, whether that brother was Peter Pevensie or Peter the High King. The girls, too, loved their eldest brother with fierce devotion – Caspian could see it in their faces, in their stances as they waited with Peter for Edmund’s return. He had never seen siblings who were so emotionally bonded – and therein, he was sure, lay their strength as monarchs of Narnia – but Peter was their center.

Caspian’s gaze traveled back to the High King, who was still gripping Rhindon’s hilt as thought the sword was the only thing anchoring him to life. ‘If his brother does not return, that sword may well be his only contact with life and sanity,’ Caspian thought grimly. What must it be like for him, to finally return to a kingdom that had once been his, only to find that it had been changed beyond recognition, that it had been overrun, distorted, and abused by the same enemies that he had punished so thoroughly so long ago? The same enemies who had tortured his brother almost to death? Nausea nearly overwhelmed Caspian as he recalled Lucy’s description of the torture Edmund had endured.

_“They left scraps of Ed’s torn clothing, locks of his hair that they had torn from his head. They left trails of blood. Edmund’s blood. It was…everywhere, just so much of it. On the second week of the search we even found his signet ring. …it was still attached to his finger.”_

Caspian shuddered, recalling the fury in Lucy’s eyes as she told the story, reading the same fury and anguish in every line of Peter’s body as he stared out over the fields of the How, hoping for a glimpse of his brother. Caspian’s people, his ancestors, had been responsible for torturing, imprisoning, and almost killing one of the greatest kings Narnia had ever had – and the High King blamed Caspian for it, seeing in him the face of every Telemarine who had hurt Edmund. The violence in Lucy’s description sickened Caspian; fighting to defend borders was often necessary, and prisoners were common, but torture was not. It was not considered honorable or humane. Caspian felt his skin crawl with the contamination of his ancestor’s deeds. Was he really worthy to rule Narnia when his blood contained such cruelty?

Once again, Lucy’s voice came back to him, quietly this time. _“Caspa was responsible for his own actions and showed himself to have a caring heart. He was not responsible for the crimes of his children. Just as you’re not responsible for the crimes of your ancestors, Caspian. Edmund knows this, and he’s been constantly beating Peter over the head with it.”_ His ancestor Caspa had been a kind man, and King Edmund had spared him, had forced Peter to spare him, because of his kindness. Caspa had chosen kindness over the brutality of his fellows; he, Caspian the Tenth, could do the same. He had always loved the tales of Old Narnia, had always felt more of a connection to that Narnia than to the country Miraz had ruled. He had been chosen to lead the Old Narnians in their attempt to regain their country. He wanted to help them live in peace and restore the harmonious prosperity of the Golden Age. Surely those intentions counted for something; surely choosing Old Narnia over Miraz and his followers, because he loved the Old Narnia more than he had ever loved his uncle, proved that he was worthy to rule. Edmund, Lucy, and Susan all seemed to think so, no matter how much they were struggling with the painful fact that _they_ could not resume ruling Narnia as they once had.

Peter, however, was a different matter altogether. Although Lucy had said that Peter trusted him and accepted that he was one of the Narnians, Caspian still felt the tension simmering whenever he interacted with the High King. They needed to talk. He wanted Peter to understand how much he respected all of the Pevensies; he wanted Peter to know that he would spend the rest of his life as king of Narnia trying to make up for the evil that had been done, trying to wipe out the scars the Telemarines had left on the siblings and Narnia herself.

The sound of hoofbeats suddenly pulled Caspian out of his reverie, and he watched Lucy straighten and Peter tense even more, if that was possible. As Edmund and his escorts came into view, he heard Lucy’s thankful exclamation of, “Dear Aslan! Thank you,” and saw Peter’s shoulders relax just a fraction. Taking a step forward, he could see Edmund striding into the clearing behind the galloping Glenstorm and the giant Wimbleweather, looking up toward his older brother and younger sister with a steady gaze.

Lucy turned to Peter and looked him in the eyes, setting her hands on his forearms in soothing reassurance. “He’s all right. He’s all right, Peter, and he’ll come straight to you. He always does.” Peter nodded, but the tension did not leave him, and Caspian realized that he would not relax fully until he could see for himself that Edmund was not hurt.

It was only then that the two siblings noticed Caspian standing behind them. So focused had they been on waiting for Edmund that they had not known they were being watched, and they were clearly startled. Caspian bowed, giving them both a moment to adjust. “Your Majesties. I am truly thankful your brother has returned safely.”

“As are we,” Peter said hoarsely. The High King looked as though he had aged years in the past few hours, and the change in his expression and bearing was startling.  ‘Perhaps he has aged,’ Caspian thought in wonder. ‘My people have denied the magic of Narnia for generations. How would we know what such magic is capable of? The High King has returned to his kingdom and found his place again, I think. Not without struggle, it is true, but I think he has. Surely an event so powerful could affect his body as well as his mind.’ Caspian had not missed the “we” that fell from Peter’s lips; while it indicated both Peter and Lucy on the surface, Caspian instinctively knew that Peter had used it in the royal sense, perhaps without even realizing he did so.

All of this passed through Caspian’s mind in the space of a few heartbeats, and then he spoke hesitantly to Peter. “Peter, I . . . grieve that my ancestors have brought so much pain to your family, particularly to you and your brother Edmund. While Lucy assures me that you all see me as an ally, as a Narnian, I am in the curious and unique position of being a Telemarine who has become a Narnian. I understand the damage we have inflicted on this country; I can only assure you that I will do everything in my power to correct it, to give the Old Narnians their rightful home, restored to its former glory.”

Lucy did her best to silently convey her appreciation and approval to Caspian while keeping a close watch on her brother’s face. Peter’s eyes, normally the warm and sparkling blue of the Narnian Sea, turned as icy as Jadis’s winter as Caspian spoke, and Lucy shivered, tightening her grip on her brother’s arm.

“Peter . . .,” she said warningly, worry in every line of her face. “He is one of us, remember.”

“You grieve,” Peter said sharply, accusingly, his eyes boring into Caspian like frozen blue daggers. “ _You_ grieve, for a kingdom you only know through stories, for a family you have known for only hours. How can you possibly understand what I see when I look at you, when I look out over this?” He gestured out over the How with his free arm, his gaze never leaving Caspian’s face. He took a step forward, and Caspian crushed the impulse to step back, to put more distance between himself and that intense stare. “I grieve for a landscape so changed that it is no longer the home I knew. I grieve for a country that was once _mine_ , for a people that have been hunted and persecuted and driven into hiding because I was not here to defend and save them, because I left one man alive and his heirs did not share his goodness of heart. I see Caspa’s face every time I look at you, and although he was kind to Edmund, and I believe you share that kindness, a part of me still wishes I had not let him live. I have been brought back to my own country, that I have _yearned_ for, and yet I cannot rule or restore it. I grieve for an entire life and land and home that are lost to me. Speak to me again, Caspian, when you have ruled Narnia for half a lifetime. Then, perhaps, you will understand how I feel.”

The anguish in Peter’s face was painful to witness. Caspian nodded, his eyes both troubled and compassionate, but before he could respond, a voice spoke from the shadows of the hallway behind them.

“Brother,” Edmund’s voice said quietly, and Peter’s reaction was immediate. His eyes sought Edmund in the darkness, and he strode past Caspian and clasped his brother tightly in his arms. Lucy pressed her freed hands to her mouth, smothering a cry of relief, and she surreptitiously brushed tears from her eyes.

“Edmund. Thank Aslan,” Caspian heard Peter murmur. “Come out here where I can see you.” The two brothers walked out into the light, and Peter looked Edmund up and down, circling around him. Caspian blinked as he looked at Edmund; the Just King had changed as well, become an older and more confident version of himself. There was an ease of movement and a calm serenity about him that was completely at odds with his physical age. Never before had Caspian heard him address Peter as “Brother,” and once again he recognized the royal speech of Old Narnia, although he was sure that in this case, Edmund had used the term on purpose. He had interrupted what might have become a quarrel, calming Peter in a moment when the High King had been on the edge of utterly losing his temper. Caspian recalled Lucy’s fearful face and trembled as Peter’s ice-blue gaze appeared again in memory. Despite the fact that he was slightly taller and broader than Peter, Caspian would not have bet on his own chances in a fight.

Edmund waited solemnly for his brother to finish scrutinizing him, and Caspian had the feeling that he was watching an oft-repeated ritual. When Peter completed his circuit, he pulled the younger king back into his embrace, the bright head bent protectively over the dark one.

“Not a scratch, my king,” Edmund said quietly. His mouth turned upward in a small smile. “You always were a bit overprotective.”

“ _You_ never learned to do as you were told, brother,” Peter countered, and Caspian was shocked to see tears in his eyes, even while he tried to smile. Caspian felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the two young men, and suddenly it was not hard at all to see why the three younger Pevensie siblings adored their older brother. It was the first time Caspian had seen Peter’s love for his family openly displayed, and he was inexpressibly moved by it. In that moment with Edmund, Peter was simultaneously brother, best friend, and father, and he would clearly give his life to keep Edmund alive and unharmed. Caspian found himself wondering not only what else they had endured while ruling Narnia, but also what their lives were like in their own world for Peter to have stepped so completely into the role of family guardian.

Lucy embraced her brother next, greeting him joyfully. “Edmund, thank Aslan you are safe and well,” she exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Edmund kissed the top of her head. “I’m fine, Lu. Miraz was quite taken aback by our strategy, I think,” he said, managing to address his sister, Peter, and Caspian all together. “He ruffled up like a rooster when one of his councilors implied that he might not be able to defeat the High King.”

Caspian nodded. “Miraz is proud and takes his honor and his fighting skills seriously. He would have taken the remark as an insult, which plays right into our plan.”

“Edumund!” cried a new voice, and Susan appeared in the doorway. “I‘m sorry it took me so long to come up; I heard you come back, but I was talking to the D.L.F. about ways to fortify the How with archers. I was sure that someone would come fetch me if anything was wrong. Are you all right?”

“Right as rain, Su,” Edmund replied, this time with a grin. He reached out, and Susan stepped forward to hug him warmly. “If you and the D.L.F. are putting your heads together about archery, Miraz’s army had better look sharp.”

Susan smiled in return, but Caspian caught the motherly once-over she gave her brother. While not as thorough as Peter’s had been, Susan’s inspection was nevertheless solemn, and he saw her nod to herself in satisfaction. He filed that look away for further reflection; Susan had clearly been the mother hen to her three other siblings, no matter how warrior-like she was in their current circumstances. “I _am_ glad you’re back, Edmund,” she said more seriously. “We were terribly worried.”

“I know, but I really am fine. I was just saying to the others that Miraz took the bait beautifully,” Edmund answered. “I put in a few pointed words of my own, just to make certain he would. He will certainly fight, and you’ll need to be careful, Peter,” he said, turning back to his brother. “He is a big man, and vicious. It certainly doesn’t surprise me that he is capable of murder,” he finished, with a look at Caspian. Caspian acknowledged the look with a nod; he had learned about Miraz’s cruelty the hard way.

Peter straightened his shoulders resolutely. “We had better get ready, then,” he said firmly. Caspian could see both apprehension and determination in his face, but the latter emotion held the upper hand, at least for the present. “I’m not about to leave Narnia in the hands of a murderer and usurper.” He began to walk back toward the interior of the How, but Edmund stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Not yet, my liege,” Edmund said. “You and Caspian must make all well between you.”

Peter gave his brother a glare that was almost equal to the one he had given Caspian earlier, but Edmund did not flinch, merely looking back at his brother with an implacable calm. His form of address had been as deliberate as before, with his earlier use of “Brother.” The term “liege” conveyed not only the allegiance owed to Peter by his siblings and the other subjects of Narnia, but also implied loyalty and faithfulness. He meant to remind Peter of his own allegiance to Narnia and to Aslan. It was not only for Peter’s own sake, but for the sake of Narnia and the throne that he needed to mend his relationship with Caspian. Edmund knew with unshakeable certainty that if Peter and Caspian did not make peace, all of their efforts to save Narnia would be for naught. He continued to meet Peter’s angry glower with a serene yet challenging stare.

Caspian, for his part, had gone slack-jawed at Edmund’s remark. The Just King, upon his return, had managed to sidetrack what surely would have been an ugly confrontation, and now he was resurrecting the conflict? What was he thinking? The truce between himself and Peter was tenuous at best, as the near-argument of a few minutes before clearly proved. He watched the two brothers in their silent battle of wills, apprehensively waiting for Peter’s response. The girls also looked on, their bodies tense, but their eyes on Edmund. Caspian suddenly realized that he was witnessing precisely what Lucy had spoken of earlier: Edmund’s unequaled ability to calm his brother and make him see reason, to reawaken the High King’s compassion, even when compassion was the last thing Peter might be feeling. The sisters knew that Edmund might be the only person who could reach their brother at present.

“He is a Telemarine, Edmund,” Peter said abruptly, his voice low with remembered fury. It took Caspian a moment to comprehend that Edmund had not spoken, but had somehow communicated a silent question to his brother, and that Peter was responding to that silent query. He wondered, with no little amazement, how many thoughts they had exchanged during those few noiseless seconds.

Edmund addressed his brother aloud then, and his voice was surprisingly soft. “He is a Telemarine who has declared his loyalty to and his love for Narnia, Peter. He is a Telemarine who was almost murdered by his own flesh and blood, who is defying his own people to defend our country. Does that not count for something?”

The two men – for Caspian could no longer think of them as boys at all – lapsed back into silence again, and this time Caspian, watching carefully, could see the small changes in expression and facial muscle, the minuscule eye movement, the almost imperceptible tightening of Edmund’s hand on his brother’s forearm, as they held whole segments of a conversation in silence. Lucy had gone back to clasping her hands together, her face pale, while Susan kept one hand hovering over her bow. Caspian could not imagine that she would use it, but it would serve as an effective distraction if she suddenly needed to get between her brothers.

It was Edmund’s voice that broke the silence this time, and his voice was even softer and gentler than before, so that Caspian had to strain to hear the words. “He is Aslan’s chosen, Peter, as are we. Do you suppose He would have brought us back here without a purpose? It was my persuasion and your compassion that saved Caspa, centuries ago in Narnian time, and we have returned to help his many-times-great-grandson ascend to the throne of Narnia.  I cannot believe that is a coincidence; I have too much faith in Aslan to think that it is simply chance we are here with Caspian. If we cannot rule again, it is a beautiful thing that one act of mercy – of _your mercy_ – should now result in Narnia’s greatest hope.”

Caspian had been watching Peter’s face, and the expressions that flitted across the High King’s visage were extraordinary to him. He saw Peter move from anger, to defiance, to reluctant acceptance, to something that was a mixture of sorrow, contrition, and awe as he absorbed Edmund’s speech. His eyes, back to their warm blue, were fathomless as he looked back at his brother, but Edmund must have seen something there, for his own eyes suddenly became full of grief, sadness, and endless sympathy.

“He is our successor, Peter, though not of your blood or mine,” Edmund whispered, and Peter’s carefully, tightly controlled expression suddenly shattered, his face blanching.

“I know,” he choked out, his voice a strangled gasp. “I know. Aslan help me to bear it.”

Caspian’s chest clenched painfully as he momentarily took in the naked heartache on the High King’s face before Peter whirled away from all of them, turning back to face the landscape, tightening his fists until his knuckles were stark white, the bones pressing rigidly against the skin.

The implications of Edmund’s whispered statement hit Caspian with the force of a physical blow, and he felt his knees buckle. He automatically reached out to steady himself on the rock wall, turning his face away from the wrenching scene in front of him. Sweet Aslan, was it possible? Had there been women – men – subjects – who these four monarchs had loved, lovers who had been left behind when the Pevensies had so abruptly returned to their own world? Had they carried that additional burden of love lost, adult love remembered in their minds and hearts, though their bodies were so young? Caspian opened his eyes to see Peter’s shoulders shaking silently, and to see Edmund close his eyes ever so briefly before moving to embrace his brother. He wondered what emotions that small gesture contained. There had been no marriages or children, he was fairly sure, for Narnian history mentioned nothing of either, but that did not mean they had not found romantic love. Had Peter loved someone enough to dream of marriage and a family? Had any of the other three? Peter and Edmund’s expressions had certainly suggested it. Caspian glanced over at Lucy and found that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. He could not be sure if she was crying for her brothers or herself, or perhaps both or all of them. Susan had moved next to her sister and put an arm around her shoulders, and although the Gentle Queen was not crying, her face was ghostly pale. Had the brothers and sisters shared the dream that their children might rule together, as they had? It was almost too much to comprehend. If his deduction was correct even to some degree, how had they borne so much loss? How had they found the strength to go on in their own world?

Or was it simply that they had wanted, as kings and queens, to leave Narnia in safe hands, to have their children follow them and be assured that Narnia was at peace? He, Caspian, was the tenth firstborn son of his family - it must have given each previous generation comfort, knowing that there was someone who would take up its mantle, would continue ruling wisely. His own line had hardly been free of treachery, but it had been continuous. The Pevensies had never had that comfort, though they might have had the opportunity for it. Did they grieve for lost friends and lost chances or for lost loves as well?

Peter and Edmund were still supporting each other as though they were drowning, and Caspian saw Edmund lift his head just a little, as thought to signal Susan and Lucy. The girls came immediately, wrapping their arms around their brothers as if they were simultaneously searching for strength and trying to physically protect their siblings.  Watching them, Caspian knew that he might never receive the answers to his questions. He had no right to ask them for such personal memories. Some things were simply too painful to speak of, even to those who already knew everything there was to know. Some kinds of pain could never be taken away or forgotten.

However, there was one thing he could do for them. One thing that might just be enough to reassure them.

“Your Majesties,” he said quietly, moving away from the wall and toward the small knot of bodies on the overlook. His voice was rough and hoarse with emotion, although he had not cried. He did not think he had cried in front of anyone except his nurse since his father died; she had been the only one who had cared about him as a mother might have done, and he had no siblings to comfort him.

The four heads rose simultaneously, but it was Lucy who met Caspian’s gaze first, tears still sparkling on her cheeks. As she looked at him, she seemed to immediately realize what he was thinking and feeling. Her face was sober, and only the tiniest of nods accompanied the silent thought she sent his way. ‘Now you see; now at last you understand us just a little more,’ Caspian read in her expression. He gave her a brief nod in return before looking over at her siblings. Lucy was still holding on to Susan, but the older three had broken apart and were regarding him gravely.

“I have not appreciated until now exactly how much you all have lost, and suffered,” he said, his voice still thick. “It has been dawning on me slowly, ever since you appeared here, and especially since the Valiant Queen was so kind as to tell me of your previous . . . encounter with the Telemarines, but in the last few minutes I have witnessed the emotion and the strength that have made you legends in Narnia. You were taken away from your home when you left here, in every sense, away from your birthright, away from a land you have fought for and would willingly die for, away perhaps from loved ones that were precious to you.” Caspian did not miss the tightening in every face in front of him, but the monarchs were uppermost, now, and not one of them gave in to the sentiments that had been so visible before. He continued, steadily moving his gaze from one to the next, doing his utmost to convey his sincerity. “You all must believe so strongly that your Aslan had a purpose in sending you back to your own world. I can hardly fathom the faith and devotion that must be required for you to go back and live fully in that world as well as this one – and yet here you are, in front of me, in what might be Narnia’s greatest hour of need since the Battle of Beruna. You say that Aslan has brought you back to save Narnia a second time – and I cannot doubt it. Not anymore.” 

He drew a long breath before continuing, preparing himself for the next few moments. “Your faith in me thus far has been based on your faith in Aslan alone. While you have every reason to trust in Him, let me give you one more reason to have faith.”

With that, Caspian drew his sword and fell to one knee in front of the High King, placing the blade in front of him, on the ground, with the hilt toward Peter. He heard Lucy’s gasp of surprise, and looked up fleetingly to see shock in Peter’s blue eyes and respect and approbation in Edmund’s brown ones. He bowed his head and began to speak the Old Narnian vow of fealty, as closely as he could remember it. 

“I, Caspian the Tenth, successor to the throne of Narnia, son of Caspian the Ninth of Telmar and lately of Narnia, do swear my loyalty and allegiance to you, Peter the Magnificent, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion; to you, Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table; to you, Susan the Gentle, and to you, Lucy the Valiant. May my words, my deeds, and my sword honor and defend you forever, and may the Great Lion protect me to serve you thus.”

There was absolute, ringing silence after he finished speaking, and Caspian could feel the tension in the air as everyone present waited for Peter to act. He sensed, rather than saw, his sword being lifted off the ground, and felt the tip gently touch one shoulder, then the other.

“Rise, Caspian the Tenth, as our Knight of the Order of the Lion, as our beloved brother’s Knight of the Order of the Table, and as the rightful claimant of the throne of Narnia,” Peter said. Caspian noticed that his voice was trembling ever so slightly, and realized that it might never have been so hard for him to give this particular speech as it was at this moment. “May you be true to us and our kingdom, and above all to the Lion in whose name we rule. May Aslan’s blessings be upon you in peace and in war; may He heal you in sickness and comfort you in sorrow; may His love enhance your moments of joy tenfold.” Peter paused for just a fraction of a second, and when he continued his voice was firm and deliberate. “We do accept your fealty and your service to us, the Monarchs of Narnia, and to Aslan, the ruler of us all. May His grace and wisdom bless our kingdom forever.”

Caspian rose carefully to his feet, and as he raised his head to look at the quartet of sovereigns, he caught his breath. For what might have been an eternity or the blink of an eye, he saw them not as they were now, but as they must have looked in Narnia’s Golden Age. They were all dressed in royal robes much finer than anything they actually wore.  Lucy was a spirited, red-haired young woman full of courage; Edmund was tall, dark, and serious, but with amusement and shrewdness continually flickering in his eyes; Susan, a breathtaking beauty of a woman who was gracious and lovely, but also possessed the air of someone who saw beyond and underneath the surface of things; and Peter, solemn and purposeful, radiating strength and honor and nobility. There was also, Caspian suspected, life and joy and wit underneath Peter’s solemnity that might have been visible in circumstances that were less painful to him. He was truly Magnificent, in all senses of the word.

The four of them wore crowns, silver and gold.

Caspian could hardly take in the brilliance of what he was seeing, but the next instant, the vision was gone, and only the noble bearings of the siblings remained. After the High King handed Caspian’s sword back to him, and Caspian sheathed it once more, Peter reached out and gripped Caspian’s forearm just below the elbow, a warrior’s gesture that bespoke unity.  Caspian grasped Peter’s arm in an instinctive response, so that their forearms lay together, and the two men gazed at each other for a long minute.

“This will not be an easy fight, Caspian, but I do not intend to let Miraz win,” Peter said. “I am with you to the death.”

Caspian observed the look that flickered between Peter and Edmund at Peter’s last words, but he could see that Peter was absolutely sincere. He meant the last statement as a vow.

“As am I,” Caspian responded. “Narnia and Aslan will be with you always, my king.”

Caspian knew that it was the truth, and it was the right thing to say. The briefest of smiles touched Peter’s lips before he nodded, and their friendship was cemented.

Releasing Caspian, Peter turned back to his siblings. “Come. There’s fighting to be done.”

Edmund came forward to stand beside his brother, and as he did he gave Caspian the warm smile of an ally. “You’ll do,” he said, his eyes teasing, and Caspian was briefly taken aback by the mischievousness there. Then he smiled in return, inclining his head with just a slight touch of wryness. Edmund chuckled, but his face sobered again. “We are for you, whatever comes.”

“I know,” Caspian said gravely. “I am grateful.”

Edmund nodded before he and Peter started to move toward the interior of the How. Leaning toward his elder brother, Edmund said, “You made him a knight of both our Orders.” There was just the slightest hint of a question in his tone.

“Well, he will have to be, won’t he?” Peter said crisply. “There is only one of him, and he is to rule for all of us. He should represent both you and me; if the girls had Orders I would have included those, too. I don’t want anyone questioning his authority.”

Edmund nodded, satisfied. Peter might never be entirely content with the idea of anyone other than themselves being in charge of Narnia, but he was finally willing to trust that Caspian would be a wise ruler. He had vested Caspian with the authority of both Pevensie kings by making him a knight of both Orders, and that was not a gift lightly given. At the same time, he had accepted Caspian’s oath literally by making the new king accountable to all of them. Caspian had, Edmund suspected, intentionally worded his oath so that it would be so. He had implicitly given any of them permission to rebuke him or even challenge him if they ever returned and found anything wanting. Peter carried the authority to do so already, of course, but it was still a brave and noble thing for Caspian to give his allegiance to the High King when he was going to be king himself. Not many men would do it, or see the need for it, and Caspian had.

Edmund caught his brother looking at him, reading his thoughts, and Peter flashed an affectionate smile at him before he spoke again. “I wish for Caspian’s sake that he had a brother to better him, as I have always had.” Peter’s warm look carried the implicit acknowledgement that Edmund had been right, along with silent thanks for his counsel. Edmund ducked his head slightly in embarrassment, but smiled in return nonetheless. Though he and Peter loved each other a great deal, perhaps more than could ever be expressed, they seldom put it into words – and words had been even rarer over the last year in England. His brother had been equal parts angry, lonely, and reckless since they had left Narnia the first time. Although the two brothers had never stopped looking out for one another, and although they were still capable, even in England, of reading each other almost without thought, they had talked less and argued more, and Peter’s withdrawal into himself had been especially painful to Edmund. Peter, who used to be so open with all of them, had become silent and brooding, and what emotions he did show were mostly hostile. They all knew to some degree what he was feeling, but he had refused to talk to any of them. Witnessing Peter’s verbal attack of Caspian had been a relief for Edmund; Peter was finally articulating what had really been hurting him for so many months of their time – and those feelings had only been magnified by the changes they had found in Narnia. Peter’s confrontation with Caspian and the following confrontation between the two of them had been cathartic, Edmund was sure. He rejoiced to see the return of the Peter who loved and protected him to the point of annoyance, the brother who could and did show his emotions to his siblings. He was coming back to them, as well as to Narnia.

Behind them, Susan passed Caspian and gave him an approving nod and quiet smile before following her brothers. Lucy came up to Caspian last, and he was completely taken aback when Lucy reached up and hugged him hard. Slowly, his arms went around her, too, as he thought how strange and yet beautiful it was that this girl felt like a sister to him, who had never had any real family to call his own.

“Thank you,” Lucy said, her voice muffled in his chest but still full of emotion.

“You are welcome, my Queen, but you do not need to thank me,” he said quietly. “I did what I felt was right, for you and your siblings, for me, and for Narnia.”

“You’re well on your way to being king, then,” Lucy said with a slight laugh, pulling back to look at him. She was smiling, and he smiled back before she went to join her brothers and sister, who had stopped in the doorway to wait for her. As Caspian turned and looked at them, a shaft of sunlight came out of the clouds to rest on the siblings, and he was again struck with that feeling of unreality. Crowns glimmered on their heads once more, silver and gold, reflecting and refracting the sun into a million sparkles of light.

The faintest whisper of a deep, kind voice, sweeter and yet more terrifying than anything he had ever heard, reached Caspian’s ears.

“Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen.”

 

 


End file.
